But I didn't like it
The Buddha was vibrating against the window
It made a pretty weird sound
I tried to listen to new music today
Xuebing Du
𓃗

titsay

shark vs the universe
sheepfilms
untitled
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosimo Galluzzi

if i look back, i am lost
Noah Kahan
occasionally subtle

pixel skylines
Peter Solarz

#extradirty
Stranger Things

oozey mess
official daine visual archive
EXPECTATIONS
we're not kids anymore.
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye

seen from Brazil
seen from Hungary
seen from United States

seen from Finland

seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from Spain

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from Brazil

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
@darthunderwood
But I didn't like it
The Buddha was vibrating against the window
It made a pretty weird sound
I tried to listen to new music today
Compression
The promise of exhalation endures
desperate to be rid of the air that scars my lungs
that leaves seared veins in their flesh
each breath intended to relieve the ache
only to compound the issue
And around me the air holds no fear
Leap Year
Midpoints always signal ends
The way a beginning sparks
the final unfolding
the way an intake of breath cannot be held
eternally
the promise of exhalation endures
#poem #poetry #poetryyoufuckers
Buson
Every culture makes
The same joke about chestnut
Trees and their perfume
I’ve got a really important question
Has anyone ever knitted Obi-Wan Kenobi a jumper
I mean like a jumper. A really fluffy, bantha-wool jumper.  Because I’ve never seen anyone who needs a jumper more than Obi-Wan Kenobi.
It’s like he won’t hug anyone so at least the jumper can hug him when he loses his cloak again
Hey @meggory84, does Qui-Gon knit?
HE DOES NOW
I’m cutting in to say that I don’t know if Qui-Gon is a knitter so much as he was forced to learn as a padawan to teach patience, and abandoned the practice as soon as he could. (Though, I could see him trying to re-learn the skill as an adult, in a world where he loves or comes back, swearing at 2am as he drops *another* stitch. Obi-Wan finds him slumped over in the morning. He’s very touched when he receives a misshapen but soft and warm jumper).
I do think Anakin crochets, however.
I love it. I also love the idea of Qui-Gon as a good process knitter, using the stitches as an exercise in patience, but who has NEVER ONCE checked gauge. He only uses one sweater pattern, and the final meditation is to find the one person in the Temple who fits his misshapen monstrosity before casting on the next one
That is amazing and I love everything about it
It's always been my headcannon that Qui Gon is an excellent technical knitter and infact knits true lace on tiny needles using cobweb yarn spun from the undercoat of yearling tauntauns. Also there is only one group in the universe who can get away with not swatching and still hit gauge and that's the Jedi.
14 / 29
your anger is carbon
charred remains
an element so common
the diamonds you formed
the pressure alone gave them their rarity
my shame is nacre
flowing light
an element so prized
the pearls I grew
a process common to all my kind
accretion and compression
learning and unlearning
pathways into the noise of being
Yeah, but Bukowski never went to Paris
Chery cola and
Wine is the poor man's kir royale
Perfect for week nights
The Cutter
If you really were porcelain
I could pull you up between my fingers
Cold and dry to the touch
Cold and dry, like meat hung
In a locker flesh on bone and hook
Flesh like wood sliced across the grain
Grain scattered in a park
Empty stone bench across from the pond
Birds forgotten in the stormy sky
Birds in the sky, birds in the water
Birds in my hair like a thicket
Empty white sky like porcelain
Last Night at the Bar
Bumping along beside you on Bloor St
Pavement bending with the force of my tread
arms cast in glass, cast in resin
hands so firmly in pockets
The clear trajectory of our night
a sharp line of geese over infinite prairie
suddenly radiates, reduplicates, unravels
blurs out of focus
suddenly envelopes me in
beating wings, fat birds like feathery hearts
lost within a cloud insubstantial
unknowable and totally affecting
No objects vibrate at the correct frequency
All atoms out of place
Trumpeters finish their discourse
I let it go
Downed my negroni
And called it a night.
Summer
Tight sandals like
a fist around my heart.
How do I know?
Oh, paper.
And some weird Buddhist cooking thing.
The Empty Space Where A Bird Should Be
Not like a bird for ( )
Not to write black lines in a ( )
This wire's for cutting.